


Comfortably Numb

by Prince_Po



Series: Altered and Tweaked [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Derek is pitiful, Derek's family isn't dead in this, F/M, Kate is a really big psycho bitch, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Stiles is a hero in Derek's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Po/pseuds/Prince_Po
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was the perky new pre-cal teacher at the high school. Stiles didn't like her. Derek just wanted to challenge himself. And it all took a turn for the worse. Now Derek seems too broken to be fixed and all Stiles can do is feed him pudding cups and hope for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psychologically

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of trigger warnings in here? Sexual and physical abuse, emotional trauma, belittling, kidnapping, and severe PTSD. Derek basically retreats into fetal position and ends up locking his mind in a child's mind to block out all the trauma. If any of this triggers you, blood, violence, abuse, gore, panic attacks, anxiety etc. please don't read. Otherwise, yeah. 
> 
> I decided to start transforming fanfics I wrote for my last fandom into Teen Wolf fanfics since it fits in more with the plot and theme and this fandom seems to appreciate it more? My last fandom didn't really enjoy this psycho stuff... Anyways, so this is the first to be tweaked and altered to fit Teen Wolf. I hope you enjoy? This fanfic was inspired by Pink Floyd's song Comfortably Numb. If you want the original fandom fics you can find them on wattpad (jann-itionary) or Asian Fanfics (AuthorJ).

He walked down the alley way, feeling the stinging cold penetrate the skin he had exposed on the outside and travel its fingers into his core, gripping at his insides so tightly that he had to strangle down some pants when his breathing strained. 

The night around him was pitch black, devoid of all light. Though that wasn’t to be unexpected considering that he’d set out on his walk when the hands on the clock had just ticked by two am. He’d heard the chiming dong of the grandfather clock as it announced the ungodly hour. It had been his queue to drag his feet out of bed and head on down towards his fate where he would let himself get swallowed by the path that he’d struggled to set out for himself.

There was no other option. At this point he either turned left into the dead end, or moved on right where he had an expanse of light waiting for him. And he didn’t want to get stuck again. He refused to let himself be told that his future consisted of another road block. 

For nights he’d laboured trying to find a solution. He’d looked at the spread sheets, had pulled out every single blue print at his disposal to find a short cut, a cheat code, something that would guide him away from that stupid brick wall. 

He was so fed up of that stupid brick wall. If it wasn’t a brick wall it was a hurdle. If it wasn’t a hurdle that he had to jump over than it was a fallen tree that he had to walk around and if it wasn’t a tree then it was a moat he had to swim across. The brick wall that her slim legs made when she planted her feet in front of him, hands on her hips was impossible to surpass. His body was aching in exhaustion at all the effort that had been put into pushing through these obstacles. So exhausted that his mind had begun to deteriorate into a mad state that had led him to becoming what he was now. 

It had been the start of the reason why he was trudging down this alley way alone. 

A sigh flew off his lips, tickling the cracked and bruised surface. His breath transformed into a white cloud that hindered his vision for a moment before disappearing with the breeze. Goosebumps had risen on his bare arms and legs yet it felt like he was warm. There was a slight awareness in the back of his head that he was freezing, but he couldn’t acknowledge it even if he wanted to. 

The smell of day old food and urine pilfered his nose, burning his nasal cavities. He shuddered at the idea of what lurked in those dumpsters and behind the black bags full of moulding items. Rats with rabies… Raccoons scrounging up their next meal… Perhaps maggots just waiting to eat away at his flesh… 

How appealing… 

Unconsciously he picked up his pace a little more, needing to get out of this step so he could finally reach his destination. 

When the mouth of the alley spit him out onto the street he gratefully paced along the sidewalk beneath the glow of the street lights, ignoring the stray cars that   
drove by him or the occasional shout or boisterous laugh. It was unimportant background sounds that didn’t match up to the splendour that would be the upcoming scene.

All he needed was some red curtains and he’d have a complete show.

Curtains dyed red by the blood he’d spilled through his wrists as the bonds had rubbed his wrists raw. Dyed red by the blood he’d spilled when his tissues had been ripped apart, abused to the point of no return… 

A rock dug into the soft flesh on the underside of his foot. He cringed but pushed on. The distant sound of a honk startled him, however, he kept his head hung low, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and pressed forward. 

It wouldn’t be long now… He could see the steel structure with its triangles and bolts bigger than his two fists combined. The gentle slosh of water met his ears and encouraged him on his quest, begging him to come quicker so they could meet at last. 

 

Sour wolf! Where r u? I swear I just figured out this gr8 recipe! - S

 

Stiles… God, what would he think if he carried through with this? No. He couldn’t let himself think of him or he wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t be able to - 

 

Derek? – S

 

How was he to push on and complete his plans when he was being pestered by people who pretended to care? There was no way he’d be able to carry on with this if he kept receiving those little text lingo messages.

 

Derek? Srsly bro where u at? We were supposed to meet up? – S

 

At one point Derek had thrown his phone out, unable to tolerate the constant messages. No. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need to remember the one person   
who for a time had been able to keep a hold on his sanity. 

 

Cars started driving by faster and faster. The air was brisker here, full with the smell of salt and the sharp nippy smell of winter. The crispness was something he’d become accustomed to on days where he walked to school in the middle of winter. Long ago – he could hardly remember that. 

Again, those cold fingers wrapped around Derek. The bridge, with its towering structure called out to him. She begged him to climb higher. Somehow he managed, gripping a steel rod that burned icily on his already freezing skin. Derek curled his fingers around the next bar as his feet helped him to hoist his body and climb higher – higher – higher – higher. 

Everyone below him seemed to be nothing more than an ant. Some had stopped, staring at him. Cars had stalled at the curb, lights flashing so no one would bump them from behind. Many of the people he could see had phones clutched in their hands with the receiver pressed up to their faces as they talked frantically to the pour dispatch workers on the other line. 

In a blink of his eye he was back on the sidewalk. The image of his whole plan was comfortable gratifying. He was almost there. Standing on the edge of the bridge he would just need a few more moments before he could reach that stage. Just a little more. Just a little more… 

Bare feet padded over rough gravel. Derek ignored the chips of rocks and debris piercing into the pads of his feet. His toes protested loudly against the cold but their cries were quickly silenced when the next breeze kissed away their throbs. Comfortably numb, he could say he was. 

If he was left in a room to thaw the effects of what he’d achieved would probably be torn away from him to be replaced with something brutally agonizing. 

A truck honked at him as he climbed onto the sidewalk, taking the first steps onto his future. Goodbye world. He ignored the lights blinding him as he traipsed across the broken pavement. Another car sent a trill honk at him when he almost teetered onto the road. Goodbye loud, noisy and ungrateful drivers. 

 

“Haven’t you been a bad boy?”  
“G-go away; I didn’t do anything to you.”  
“Shut up you little bitch. What did I say about speaking back to me? I guess I have to punish you now.”   
“No! N-no! Please don’t! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”  
“I said shut up!”

 

A lovely bridge this was. Ugly, seaweed green with patches of rust. It may have been a lovely structure back when it’d been built. Now it was a poor, abused stamp in the book of architecture. Nobody bothered to flip to the page it was located on; they continuously skimmed over it knowing it existed but because its splendour had gone away they didn’t bother to appreciate its true beauty. 

Derek would remind them that this bridge existed. Though he would point out the truth of everything that the world had become by doing so. His death would mark the beginning of this bridge’s rebirth as something to be feared because though life was beautiful, it ignored its mere existence. Death was the only thing blunt enough to remind people that they weren’t invincible. Bridges existed, people existed. 

Climbing up now. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to lose his grip and fall backwards, split his skull and then be peacefully knocked out for when a car or truck ran over his body. That would be a lovely way to go. Instead of freezing to death and drowning in the water. And this way he’d be giving that extra boost to the bridge. He stood there on the sidewalk, contemplating his options but another blink of his eyes and he was carried back to the reality. 

The reality that he was not on the bridge. Nor had he ventured outside yet despite that he still felt chilled to the bone. Violent shivers ravaged his body. It would have pushed him off kilter but something was keeping him rooted. 

“What did you think you were doing? I nearly had a heart attack,” a voice whispered in his ear. 

It took a while but Derek managed to place it. Reaching out a hand he touched his fingers to a slim chest, the wall that had kept him caged in the meadows that he had always preferred over the urban scene where his friend the bridge lived. “Stiles,” he murmured through chattering teeth. 

“Don’t do that again…” 

“I just wanted to go outside.” 

“You’re allowed to but you have to tell the people, okay?”

“They don’t let me go unless I’ve taken my pills.”

“Have you been taking them?”

“Yes.”

He had until the week before. The sickness that came with downing the three little pills they brought to him with a morning meal wasn’t something he could stomach as much as he tried. Just like in the real world, people liked to force things upon him till they received violent reactions. 

He was lost. The boy was unable to pin point his location or recall what had happened. There was so much he couldn’t comprehend… Like where the bridge had gone… When had he changed his pyjamas? How had Stiles found him? 

His eyes fixed on his perfectly trimmed finger nails as they gripped onto the fabric of his friend’s shirt. The simple movement of the material in his fingers distracted him long enough. It kept him occupied and focused as he tried to braid words together so he could form a sentence. 

In his stomach the acid churned, making his gut clench. Had they brought his pudding cup yet? They knew how much he liked and needed that…

“Where’s my pudding?”

“It’s not time for pudding today Derek… You left the hospital without permission and it’s really late right now…”

“I want my pudding.”

“You can’t have pudding Derek… Now come on, we have to get you cleaned up.”

“My name isn’t Derek!!” The boy who had once been comfortably lying in Stiles’ arm suddenly pushed him away violently. All he had wanted was pudding. 

Black spread throughout his line of vision, starting as dots and quickly escalating to something more as he picked up the closest thing to him and whipped it in Stiles’ direction. Whatever it was that he’d thrown missed its target completely. Before his hands could catch hold of anything else he felt strong, lithe fingers wrap around his wrists, keeping him from moving his arms. 

“No. You don’t throw things.”

“I can do whatever I want!” 

With a few more feeble attempts he tried to use his legs to kick at the other, landing in a few kicks as he overpowered the other with strength he didn’t know to have in his body. The spell that over took him was one that blinded him to everything. One moment he remembered wanting pudding and then he recalled waking up and not being able to move his arms or legs. Tears streamed down his face and he choked on a sob. “I want Stiles. Stiles!” he cried, struggling against his bonds. 

“That’s enough Derek,” a foreign voice chastised him. The sound of a woman’s voice petrified him though and he struggled all the more. Fear of being attacked by the lady made him quiver and a wetness seeped into his pants when it overwhelmed him. 

“I’m not Derek! I want Stiles! Where’s Stiles?!”

 

Case #450992 – Derek Hale

 

Type: Abuse (sexual/physical); kidnapping; attempted murder

 

Report: Subject was kidnapped by professor, Kate Argent. Found 05-25-2013 tied in the woman’s closet after friends and family reported him missing 12-26-2012.   
Evidence shows there to be many forced acts of the sexual kind as well as a tumultuous amount of physical abuse including knife gashes requiring multiple stitches, third degree burns and bruising from multiple beatings with various blunt objects. Interviews and interrogations of both the victim and perpetrator show that the victim was utilized as a sex slave for the professor atop of being subject to multiple forms of abuse. The victim was found in very pour conditions, emaciated, bound (unable to move more than two feet in any direction), severely battered and forced to live in his own defecations. 

 

Attorney Assigned: Adrian Harris 

 

Medical Report:   
\- Lacerations and burns covering 90% of body   
\- Internal bleeding   
\- Multiple fractures  
\- Damage to the genitalia; particularly the anal area  
\- Possible psychosis   
\- PTS Syndrome

 

The victim has been placed in the care of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital until his physical wounds have been treated. From there the victim is to be transferred to St. Mary’s Hospital for the Mentally Unstable to undergo exams and treatment for the damage believed to have been caused during the victim’s incarceration. 

 

Medical Examiner: Alan Deaton 

 

“Where’s Stiles?! I want Stiles! Go away, you witch! Go away!” His leg broke free of the strap that he’d loosened and he lashed out with his foot. He hit something, but whether or not it was something human or not was beyond him. In his state he didn’t even register the wetness seeping into his pants and undergarments. A pungent smell permeated the surrounding air. People shouted things, but that one trill, woman’s voice broke through the chaos and tightened his panic till his sobs turned to shrieks. He screamed his voice raw by the time something pricked his body, a sharp sting that spread throughout his whole body. 

And then the cold was nibbling at his body again. It started in his finger tips and traveled throughout his torso till even his legs lost their will to fight and finally his toes gave their last wriggle as the icy feeling returned to his body. 

The bridge returned to sight and Derek put one foot in front of the other as he walked towards the steel structure once again. 

 

“Oh Derek, you’ve been such a naughty boy…”

“No I haven’t, I really haven’t. I-I didn’t do anything.”

“But you’ve sullied your carpet again… Tsk tsk…” 

“No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

 

Comfortably numb… The needle took away the voice of the women… He was nothing more than a slave to Mother Nature now as she ripped at his skin with her rain that had suddenly begun to pelt down during his march to the bridge. 

 

32 unanswered text messages. 18 missed calls. 

 

Derek? It’s been like 5 days now. Answer your phone. – S

BRO?! srsly where are you? – S

Derekkkkk? – S

Look, I know we’ve had our differences but srsly? I thought that finished when we made out? - S

If you don’t answer you phone today I’m gonna come down there – S

I drove four hours to see you. Why aren’t you home? – S

 

“Shh, it’s okay… Look, your pudding is here…” 

Waking up was a challenge. Crusty curdles littered the corners of Derek’s eyes and he had to work to peel them apart. He didn’t have much energy left and he still felt a bit stiff but with Stiles’ helped him sit up, smiling when he grinned sleepily at the chocolate pudding on the tray in front of him. 

With a trembling hand Derek reached out for the spoon, only to drop it when his fingers didn’t react like his mind had willed them to. Stiles smiled reassuringly and picked up the utensil for him, scooping up some of his favourite dessert and bringing it to his mouth.

“Open wide Derek…” 

His jaw slackened and he found himself waiting for the spoon to land on his tongue, only closing his mouth when he was sure Stiles had got it right and swishing the creamy goodness in his mouth. A purr practically sounded from the man as he swallowed his pudding, hand finding Stiles’ unoccupied one and gripping it tightly, awaiting his next bite. 

A napkin was pressed to the corner of his mouth where he’d accidentally let some pudding fall. Another spoonful was pressed against his lips, though, and he gladly opened wide, his grip never faltering on Stiles. 

“Good job, Derek… Is it good?”

“I like pudding.” 

“Yeah, I asked for chocolate; your favourite.”

“I like you.” 

“I know… I like you too…”

“A lot?”

“Yeah… A lot.” 

With a beaming smile and a gap in his memories about what had happened with the bridge and everything else, he opened his mouth again, begging Stiles to feed him some more. And the other was only too happy to comply. Derek once more moved the gelatine like dessert in his mouth and swallowed, humming happily as he opened his gob again. “More please,” Derek murmured, pulling on Stiles’ hand as the feeling slowly returned to his body again.


	2. Physically (A)

The first time he’d seen her she’d been in the classroom. Honey locks up in a neat bun on top of her head, kept safely in place by a navy elastic that matched her pin striped pencil skirt and chemise. Everything about her was composed. The way she comported herself, presented herself… She reeked of confidence and was quick to let her opinion known. Which Derek supposed was what had attracted people to her in the first place. 

It had started his senior year in school, when he’d had her for the first time in math class. He was in an advanced program. Being top in his grade had made him crave a challenge and where else to get it other than in pre-cal? 

It was meant to be a good year… 

He’d grabbed his bags that morning and headed out with Stiles ready to charge straight on and find new adventure in his whole life. He had not asked to be whirled into a mess of this calibre but destiny had had some sick, cruel plans for him. 

The classroom had been cleanly set out with few students coming in before the actual bell rang. It was after all the first day of classes after a summer of being away and many people were spending all the time they could to catch up on the things they’d missed. As he’d been walking in the hallways Derek had heard his peers exchanging stories about visiting the beach, encountering love, falling out of love, the difficulties of their lives, the amazing trips they’d taken… It was an ocean of words that held meaning and passion and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he heard them. He’d done the same with Stiles this morning, though  
they had both expressed the need to get to class on time since they enjoyed being punctual. 

Like him and his close friend, there were stragglers in this room. It was not to say that none of them had friends, simply that their priorities were better balanced in a way. 

A couple boys leaned against the windows; one girl had joined their group, laughing brightly as someone said something apparently funny. The light poured in through the glass and illuminated their content expressions. Half the desks had the rays reflected the surface and shot back into the face of the one girl whose earphones were plugged deep into her ears as she flipped casually through a magazine. And every bright yellow chair invited each new comer. 

Derek found himself taking a seat by the windows, planted just off the middle of the row closer to where the green chalkboards hung on the walls. This way his mind would be able to wander when he got bored of the material or needed to relax his brain. 

That was what he’d been thinking to do in this class. Derek was a quick learner and things such as formulas and methods in which to use them were memorized easily by him. His mother had always said studying and keeping good school habits would come in handy one day, but he seemed to not need to train it as hard as the other, which wasn’t to say he wasn’t a hard worker, he just didn’t have the same type of struggle as the majority of the student body. 

But then she’d walked in, commandeering the whole area with only a flash of her pearly whites. Though her teeth glowed a bright white colour she had a crooked canine that stood out against what would otherwise be perfect teeth. A dimple had marked the corner of her left cheek and the prospects of another on her opposite cheek. With her perfect hair and clean outfit she strut in, calling out greetings to the ones who had decided to show early. 

Derek remembered thinking only one thing upon laying eyes on her. Wow.

It wasn’t that she was exactly a stunner right off the bat. She certainly wasn’t an eye sore that was for sure, but she held something inside of herself that made it so that anyone would feel attracted to her. She was the kind of person who could hurt you badly and you wouldn’t realize until she broke eye contact with you. 

That should have been his first sign. 

It should have stayed a casual, student teacher relationship. 

“How was class?” Stiles had asked when he’d left with a buzz in his gut and a desire to return to his pre-calculus class.

“Great.”

And the next time had been great. And the one after that as well. And then one day, Derek forgot to do his homework, having fallen asleep on his couch in the midst of studying for a quiz. His problems were half done and he had hoped to scramble last minute that morning to finish them, but time had run out and he’d been forced to admit to the fact that he indeed had handed in an incomplete assignment. The shame could have been stifled easily, after all, though Derek was a model student, he couldn’t always get things done, but he’d been penalized with detention. With the woman that had golden locks crowned upon her head in the style of a braid that day. 

It looked like a whip. 

“How was class?” Stiles had asked.

“Sucked. I have detention at lunch…”

“What? Why?”

“Didn’t finish my homework.”

He had slung his arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair amicably, earning himself a growl mouth but he plastered on a smile nonetheless as they followed the hoards transferring from one class to another in the hallway. 

“Well, don’t worry about it. We can meet up after school and eat together then.”

“You know, you’re always so hell bent on eating with me. That’s strange.”

“I thought you knew that when you became friends with me?”

“I don’t know if you remember this, but we didn’t exactly willingly find each other.”

“Hey! If I hadn’t shoved Scott and sent your tray flying, where would we be today?”

And Derek had rolled his eyes and shoved his friend lightly, grinning to himself the whole time as he walked away with his heart doing little skips the whole way. 

 

 

“I don’t accept work that is done with half the effort,” she’d scolded him. 

Derek had nodded his head obediently, hands clasped behind his back where his fingers lightly brushed over the uniform slacks that covered the curve of his  
bottom. During moments like these he tried to be as still as possible. The lecture she was giving him was only met with jerks of his head (from side to side or up and down) accompanied by a “Yes ma’am,” or “No ma’am.” 

She stopped speaking shortly, opting to ogle him behind the glasses that he had sometimes seen her don during her lessons. With his eyes down cast, Derek observed her perfectly trimmed and kept nails, following the long fingers they were attached to and marvelling at how lithe her hands were. Though it confused him  
to see so many calluses marking her otherwise fair skin. He could see them wrapping around some edges of her fingers, her thumbs especially that seemed like they’d lit a lighter one too many times. Odd. 

“Derek Hale, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Take a seat.”

The yellow chairs that had once seemed to be so inviting suddenly became an object of fear as Derek twisted away from his teacher and lowered himself into  
one of them, settling nervously behind a desk. His hands moved from his back to sit on the surface of the desk, much like the way the woman across from him had her own placed. And he waited, knowing she had more to say. 

But instead of words, she acted, rising out of her seat, one elongated leg clad with a stiletto at the end flashing, followed by another. Watching her stand at this angle gave Derek the feeling of being inferior. His gut twisted uneasily as she came towards him, her heels clicking audibly throughout the room. The noise seemed to pierce his ear drums; the suspense kept building till it was a tumultuous mess stirring chaos in his mind. He gulped. 

She was standing in front of his desk in seconds. Unsurprising considering how long those legs were. She could probably clear the Savannah in one leap if she changed shoes.

“Derek Hale,” she repeated. The name sounded sour to Derek and he fought back a grimace, waiting to see what she would do to him now that she’d finished lecturing. “Hold out your hand,” she commanded. 

He obeyed, forever the obedient student he was. 

Her fingers came down to meet his skin with a sharp slap. The sound of skin hitting skin bounced from the windows to Derek’s ears, harmonizing with his sharp  
intake of breath. He bit down a growl, scowling at their hands still touching and clenched his fist, relaxing it once his finger nails dug crescents in his palm. 

“Do not disappoint me again, Derek. You are dismissed.”

Derek hadn’t wasted another moment in the classroom with his calculus teacher. He’d bolted out of there as fast as possible without looking disrespectful. 

In the hallway he practically ran. His feet carried him all the way to the men’s room where he pressed his back against the wall pausing long enough to catch his  
breath and control his temper. Whatever had happened to the bright smile and dimples from the first day of class had turned into an eerie feeling of discomfort  
during that encounter. Derek had felt his discomfort increase radically the more the silence had drawn out proceeding her lecture. Sermons he was used to, silent observation and diluted forms of corporal punishment he was not. And she had called him by another name – one that was not his. 

Flurries of muddled thoughts buzzed in Derek’s head. To try and get himself back on track he splashed cold water on his face, drying it off with paper towel after repeating the process several times. Just as he was finishing up and tossing his brown paper into the trash he felt a vibration in his pocket.

 

Hey! Where u at? – S

 

Picking up his phone he typed out a quick reply, keen on telling Stiles about his frustrations. There was no way he could keep silent about this…

 

 

“Detention, Mr. Hale.”

“For what?!” 

“Do not speak back to me in that tone. You will be accompanying me for an after school detention. If you have something to discuss with me at that time then I  
am more than willing to oblige. Now, turn to page 348 in your workbooks and do numbers one through five.” The teacher returned to her white board, her back towards the class. 

It was good that she couldn’t see the seething anger on Derek’s face. This would be the fourth time in one month that he received detention and he wasn’t too content about joining her. All of this for what? The first time had been valid – he had forgotten to do his homework, but the times that followed all seemed illogical. His second detention had been rewarded to him because he’d been unable to stop sneezing in class and he had been accused of “disrupting her lesson” which had brought upon another awkward punishment though this time he got a slap on each hand until a red welt had appeared. The third time had been the same, and this time he’d received detention all because he’d asked the person next to him if they had a pencil for him to use since his wouldn’t stop breaking. It was completely ridiculous. 

Derek had no intention of sitting through another half hour of this teacher feasting her eyes on him like a vulture and then punishing him physically. If Stiles heard about this too then he’d be just as enraged as he was, perhaps even more since his distaste for his pre-cal teacher had grown immensely during his first month with her. The other night as he’d been watching him, Scott and Isaac duel on the Xbox he’d made a passing comment about how she unnerved him and Stiles had been one push away from using his dad’s resources to figure out what her deal was. 

There was no way he could argue with his reasons either. This teacher didn’t follow protocol. It had been hinted on that first day when she had flown in with the sun kissing her hair and her confidence stinking up the area. 

Indeed, as the bell rang and Derek filed out with the other students things got even stranger. 

“Derek.”

The tone mixed with the odd name halted him in his tracks. Though he knew this wasn’t his name he still replied to it. To his distaste, a smirk of satisfaction was pulling at the corner of her lips, her eyes glazed over by an emotion that hadn’t been present during class. His knees knocked as he waited for her to say something else, palms sweating in anticipation. What was it that she could possible want from him now? 

“Do not be late,” was all she said. A brisk wave of her hand dismissed him. The impact of her words hit Derek hard, however. When he turned round to leave her class his pace quickened and he realized that he had no clue where he was going. There was something about the way she spoke to him… It didn’t make him feel just inferior but… Afraid, like she was concocting some sort of plan for him that would only benefit her. 

His steps were so brisk and hurried that when someone caught his elbow Derek let out a squeak of surprise. He started, dropping his books onto the floor only to sigh when he came face to face with Stiles’ wide, just as surprised eyes. 

“Geez, you’re jumpy today. What happened?” he asked, bending down to help his long time friend gather his books. 

“Nothing, I’m fine… I just have stupid detention again today,” Derek replied, sighing. 

“What? Again? With who? Is it that stupid cal teacher of yours again? Because I swear to God if she hits your hands like that again I’m going to the dean! That shit  
is messed up.”

“Yes, but it’s fine Stiles, just forget it okay? It’s not that big of a deal.” He adjusted the tie around his collar that had fallen out of place during his moment of being frazzled and organized the papers sticking out of his text books. “And don’t say anything to your dad; this is my problem not his.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than just your problem when a teacher decides it’s fine to hit a student as punishment.”

“She doesn’t hit me.”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?”

Stiles grabbed one of his hands that still bore traces of the last encounter he’d had with the teacher. The thin flesh stretched over the bones in his hand was  
swollen and had sharp lines of where she’d used a ruler to chastise him for his wrong doings. It had been the worst punishment given from her to date. Though none of them had ever extended beyond a slap to his hands and sometimes wrist, it had infuriated Stiles to see him leave detention in such a condition. 

Derek had spent many hours after that attempting to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal. He’d succeeded somewhat, brushing it off whenever Stiles  
brought it up. Albeit, he couldn’t discard the uneasiness that came when the spot light was cast on it which is why he yanked the evidence out of Stiles’ hands to shut him up and have the subject dropped. 

“Just forget it, okay?” he grumbled, walking away from Stiles. They did have another class to reach after all and he wasn’t willing to get another detention because he was late. 

Like the faithful and concerned friend he was, Stiles followed Derek all the way to his locker, his books having been already retrieved. He leaned casually against the locker located next to his friend’s and sighed, shaking his head almost sadly. 

“All I’m trying to say is that it isn’t normal that she hit you like that. This is the 21st century, nobody uses physical punishment during detention any more; it’s  
wrong,” he explained, wanting the latter to understand his view on his situation. 

“Stiles,” was the only thing Derek replied with, though. There needed to be no other warning, the growl in his voice and his hard glare seeming to be enough. He frowned but with another shake of his head, like he was trying to throw the thoughts plaguing him out of his mind, he let it drop. For now at least, which was all Derek could ask for. 

“Okay, but the second you get out of detention we’re getting ice cream; I have something big to tell you,” Stiles said, slinging an arm around Derek’s shoulder once his locker was shut and locked. 

“Can’t we just go out and eat some pudding? And what kind of big news? Did you get yourself some sort of girlfriend, or something?” Derek asked, shrugging off Stiles. His grin defied his actions though and when Stiles turned his head away to hide his exaggerated chuckle of disbelief he dragged the tips of his fingers over the spot where they’d touched, feeling the burn of the others presence lingering there. 

“You’ll see dude, you’ll see.”

 

Derek was beginning to hate this classroom. What had once seemed so inviting had proven to be the opposite completely. Now as he walked through the door and was met by the dwindling sunlight peeking into the room and the bright yellow chairs and those two green chalkboards at the back of the class he felt nothing but dread. His feelings were only amplified when he saw the teacher poised behind her desk, hands carefully folded in front of her. Beady eyes full of plastic compassion tried to manipulate him into a feeling of ease. Again, like a vulture getting her next meal. 

“Take a seat Derek,” she said in an airy voice, motioning towards the desk right in the front of her desk. 

He didn’t argue, knowing that trying to correct her in her use of names would be futile. With a longing look cast at the closed door he found his seat and waited,  
wondering what kind of punishment she would dish out this time. 

“I thought I corrected your naughty behaviour last time,” she tutted, getting up from her chair to join him at the desk beside his. The chair she pulled out and turned so that she could sit with her knees pressed to his side. The pencil skirt she wore that day accentuated her lither figure and his breath hitched nervously from their close proximity. 

Today would be a new punishment, he calculated, measuring his teacher’s movements carefully. 

The chances of him doing something wrong that would merit another punishment seemed to be very high at the moment. The last thing Derek wanted to do was make himself even more uncomfortable by doing something that would cause him more pain. Commenting on how close she was would probably earn him a  
punishment of the pain sort, making him keep his mouth firmly shut as much as he hated their new found position. 

“Do you know what happens to boys who don’t follow the rules?” she questioned, head tilted to the side. 

Derek’s answer didn’t come fast enough for her liking. In one quick snap of her arm she had brought the ruler down on the backs of his hands. The sting had been enough to jolt him though her unoccupied hand held his knee down to keep him in place. He could feel the tingles underneath the surface of his skin and swallowed, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry and run away home to his mom. At least she had never hurt him when he’d spilled the milk… 

“No ma’am.”

“Derek, Derek, Derek… I don’t like doing this… But bad boys are not tolerated in my classroom…”

 

“I didn’t do anything, though. I mean Ethan and Aidan are always talking in the back of the class, I don’t see why they never get detention – o-ow!”

His desperate tangent had been abruptly cut short by another sharp snap of the ruler, silencing all of his pleas. The tears were creeping up along his throat now, the exhaustion of going through this whole process something Derek wasn’t able to follow with. He had a normal life; he had not been educated in ways to handle these situations. When he’d gotten his acceptance letter the last thing on his mind was something like this. Schools such as this one were meant to be protected because the students were gifted, weren’t they? The confusion of his situation only drove Derek crazy as he muttered an apology to his teacher. 

“I’m afraid I may have to punish you more severely this time, my dear Derek,” she whispered. Manicured nails dug themselves out of his thigh where they’d seated themselves in through his uniform pants. They dragged up his leg, forcing shivers down Derek’s spine. It felt like kittens were tap dancing on his bones, every sharp rap of their shoes harmoniously combining around the movements of the teacher’s hand as it moved up… Up… Up… Touching something that no one but Derek and his mother had touched during his whole life time. 

“Y-you know what?! This is wrong! You can’t do this, it’s not right!” Derek shouted, so surprised by how she’d so casually grabbed his private area that his chair knocked backwards. He stumbled as he tripped backwards but using a desk he regained his balance, breathing heavily as he fixed wide, fearful eyes on his teacher. 

There was distance between them. At least he had that to appease his worries. The tap dancing kittens hadn’t gone yet, though. They still continued their number on his body, making his hands tremble as if they were caught in some great snow storm. 

He was momentarily soothed only to have it all wiped away when she popped out of her chair, almost towering over Derek because of the heels she wore. His whole body trembled, awaiting her next actions. Part of him wanted to run out of the room and find the dean to file a complaint. But the gnawing feeling of no one believing him kept him from doing so. He just needed to deal with this. Once his detention was over then he could be safely out then he’d just figure out a way to get out of her class… Switch teachers or drop the course altogether. Yes, it was a full proof plan. 

And that full proof plan was yanked out of his hands when the teacher threw the desk he’d been previously sitting on. She cleared the distance between them in two brisk strides, backing Derek up till he was falling into a chair with her straddling his lap. In order for her to be able to acquire such a position she had needed to hitch up her skirt several inches. It lay bunched up at her hips, showing off the lace underwear she wore; a bright red against her pale, milk skin. Thighs made of muscle squeezed him tightly, rooting him to the spot. Derek could feel his breath hitching and he turned his head away, his hands out to the side as he had no intentions of even touching the teacher. 

“Get off,” he whispered, his voice weak. Such a contrast to the courage he usually had with his friends. But he supposed saving himself was different than saving the ones he loved. 

There were many things that Derek could have tolerated. He could have dealt with the slaps to his wrists, or the lectures that seemed to always push the boundaries of a teacher student relationship, but this… This blatant invasion of his personal space was something that not even the dumbest of students could tolerate. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders, forcing him to grit his teeth as the pinch shocked him with little knocks of pain. 

“You don’t get to make the rules here,” she whispered airily. 

Before Derek could react she was pressing her lips onto his, forcing her way onto him. She pushed at his mouth using an intensity that left him panicked. There was a dull throb in his lips that followed after the initial collision. Derek was shrieking SOS, mayday, 911 – help. Stiles. But he was forced to stay still, his hands quickly getting mutilated when he tried to shove her off. His lips kept firmly shut despite her efforts to get her tongue in. When he continued to be defiant she chomped down on his lip, pulled away and slapped her right across the cheek. Everything she’d done to him up to that point was insignificant. The pain in his cheek was incomparable to all of it. Sore hands reached up to cup his face and tears welled in his eyes. But Derek didn’t move a muscle. Breathing heavily, his panicked eyes caught the sadistic gleam in his teacher’s. He was mute, statuesque and caught in her clutches. She had come in as Artemis and now revealed her true identity: Medusa. She was a monster, and Derek knew that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one easily… Because she’s chosen him as her next victim. 

The turmoil churning within him was only the beginning to what was sure to be a long, horrible adventure with his teacher. 

“You will tell no one of this, Derek. No one,” she whispered, leaning forwards to trace the shell of his ear with her tongue. 

He could feel the disgusting cake of lipstick residue on his lips, some on his chin. Her body so close to his, her mouth pulling at his earlobe, he wanted to clean himself of it. Derek was repulsed with himself as his body acted of its own accord, his sensitive private area that she’d molested earlier tingling at the touches she was giving him. His own body was a traitor to the anger in his mind. She had exploited him, violated him, invaded all of his personal and private space. Tears threatened to spill at any second. Most of all, Derek was terrified. Someone could walk in and find them in this compromising position… What was he to say for himself if they did? He’d be expelled. His parents would find him shameful. Stiles… Oh God, what would Stiles think if he heard about this? If he saw it for himself?

He was so confused. 

Derek felt the teacher drag his lifeless hand to drop on her private regions. His traitorous fingers twitched as they landed on the lacy material, but they did nothing more. She did the work for him, grinding down on his fingers and massaging herself through her panties, that evil mouth of hers keeping up their movements on his ears and neck. 

His face was tense and wet, slowly becoming stained with tears he hadn't known to be shedding. When Derek thought he would outright lose it he heard her speak to him in a low, husky tone. “You’re dismissed. Don’t be a bad boy again…” she said, though she sounded like she would find any excuse to keep in detention so she could continue to molest him. 

Derek all but shoved the woman off of his lap, priding over the fact that he made her stumble over those damned heels and fall on her behind. With her legs splayed out before her, knees knocking and crotch area fully exposed she looked weak. And just for a second, Derek rejoiced in the image. Until she pulled down her skirt and straightened herself up. 

Joy turned to utter panic when her cross expression met his. 

“Detention, Mr. Hale. Tomorrow after school. Do not be late.”


	3. Physically (B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has more rape and violence than the other chapters. High trigger warnings.

He’d bolted. Refusing to stay in that room any longer. Another detention too. Derek wasn’t sure he’d go to it. Deep in the back of his head he knew he would because she could make a complaint about him to the dean and skipping a detention could result in a demerit which would hinder him in one way or another later on. But the idea of returning to that was too much to bear. He felt so shaky… And he desperately needed a shower. 

The bathroom was the closest thing he got to it. 

One look at his reflection made Derek feel nauseous. He didn’t have time to address the issue of the red stains around his mouth before the bile rose to the topmost part of his throat, depending to be expelled from his body. The closest stall to him was infiltrated, the toilet suffering a messy fate as he retched into the bowl. The smell of toilet water nauseated him more and he found bile coming up when his stomach was emptied of everything. Derek felt like utter death… 

After his sick spell he worked furiously to clean himself up, wiping the guck from his face, fixing his rumpled hair and clothes and working on soothing himself down so that he ceased shaking and looked like a normal human. He couldn’t allow anyone to know about this. If Stiles asked he’d just say he got his wrists slapped again and then he’d rant a bit about how indecent his teacher was and how they needed to tell someone and Derek could shut him up and they’d get ice cream and everything would be good. He needn’t tell him the truth about the horror he’d just experienced. It would only cause others to worry about nothing and that was the last thing Derek wanted. Plus, he had this under control, he did.

Splashing water onto his face he used a combination of the liquid and the brown paper to clean himself up. It didn’t take long to get himself presentable though he wished he could do something about the paleness of his face. He looked clamming, like he’d been sick. Which wasn’t surprising since he had been sick… 

A sigh fell off his lips. Stiles must have been looking for him. He was probably impatiently waiting for him outside on a bench. There were probably a few unanswered texts on his phone as well. 

Heavy in his movements, Derek fished his phone out of his backpack, grinning half heartedly when he saw that he indeed did have unanswered messages. All of them were from Stiles save one that was from his mother. He answered the two quickly and took a last look in the mirror. He was good enough to go out in public, he deemed. The only thing he needed to do was keep his mouth shut so no one would ask questions. 

 

 

Stiles had been sitting on the steps in front of the school waiting for Derek. His back had a slight curve to it, his arms resting on his knees with his eyes lazily scanning the sports teams out and at school still for practice. A couple birds had flown over head, accompanying the clouds in the sky. Their shrieks filled Derek’s ears with the sounds of his regular life. The breeze that blew his hair around and the smell of cut grass tied the whole image of his friend together with a nice bow and the smile that stretched over his lips this time was genuine. 

Finally, something familiar, he couldn’t help but think in relief. 

“Hey,” he greeted, standing in front of him. 

“Hey yourself. What took you so long? I saw your teacher walk out and when you weren’t coming out two seconds after I got worried,” Stiles said. While he spoke he stood, wiping the dust off his bottom and reaching over automatically to sling an arm over Derek’s shoulders. The action was so usual by then that neither thought twice about it. Derek found himself seeking comfort in the touch as they walked towards the ice cream parlour. 

“I had to go to my locker and then I just talked a bit with someone I saw in the hallways,” he explained, shrugging nonchalantly. 

However, Stiles fixed an eyebrow on him, disbelieving almost. “Oh yeah? Who did you talk to?”

“Isaac.” The lie came so smoothly to his lips. Derek had hardly needed to think for more than a millisecond and it had come out as his answer. If he was able to keep that up for the future questions than keeping the ordeal a secret would be no problem. It was another small chip of positivity to add to his otherwise spoiled   
afternoon and it added a kick to Derek’s step. 

He felt the need to act upon his growing boost and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist. To bystanders it might look odd, since it wasn’t common to find two men positioned in such a manner in their country, but it was purely amicable. Sort of… Stiles never cared for the opinions of others anyway when it came to these matters. 

Stiles was taking note of his behaviour though and both his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. A look of surprise was cast to Derek yet the signs of acknowledgement ended there. 

“She didn’t hit you again, did she?” he asked, the routine like questions falling into line easily. 

“She did… But not hard and it wasn’t that bad. I think I’m getting used to it,” Derek replied, shrugging. 

“You shouldn’t be getting used to it,” the other grumbled underneath his breath. He looked off into the distance, observing a group of girls cross the street, chattering loudly and laughing at who knew what. In a few seconds he was all focused on Derek again, smiling softly at him. “What kind of ice cream do you feel like getting today?” he asked him, the subject of the teacher thankfully dropped. 

Derek was more than happy to go along with the change of topic. He pretended to be deep in thought about what he wanted just to annoyed Stiles and he didn’t cave until the other knocked him on the arm.“Chocolate,” he declared at last, laughing and sauntering away towards the shop.

Stiles shook his head and grumbled something about him being an idiot. “You’re a loser,” was what he declared to Derek. 

“Pfft, if I’m a loser then what does that make you? You’re my friend after all.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes; pulling out his money and struggling to get Derek to put his own away as the approached the ice cream parlour. “My dad totally slipped me a ten this morning dude, it’s fine!” he kept saying. They always got into quips about who would pay for what and when. Usually they took turns but Stiles liked to cheat and sneak in an extra turn to pay for Derek especially when his dad handed him the money on the special occasion. 

“You paid last time we came here,” Derek griped as they lined up behind the other students and one family with an excited little boy hopping around the whole store, much to his parents’ distaste. 

“You know, Derek, I think all that school isn’t helping you because your memory isn’t as good as it used to be,” Stiles joked, keeping Derek’s wallet out of reach till their turn finally came. He ordered what they had wanted, paying and ignoring the muffled complaints at his side.

Their orders were quick to come, the employees always quick to serve and they took their ice cream outside where they’d enjoy their cold treat in the dwindling summer weather. 

Derek lapped slowly at his ice cream while Stiles devoured his in a few toothless bites. The ice cream, if only for a moment, helped him to forget the monstrosity of a teacher that had almost sexually attacked him. 

They found a picnic table to sit at, choosing to sit on the table surface rather than the actual benches. It gave them a better view of the scene around them and this way they wouldn’t have to put their feet in the grass where a million ants were waiting to climb up their legs and ruin their treat. 

Derek revelled in the comfort for a moment. This was normal. With his unusual, surrounded by classmates, ice cream in hand; chattering people surrounding him, the sun kissing his skin and a breeze swirling around his body. It was all part of a senior boy’s life and there was nothing abnormal about it except for the secret Derek kept hidden. 

“You had something to tell me?” he asked, remembering how Stiles had some big news to reveal to him. 

He’d thought that Stiles would reveal that he’d asked some girl out, or that he’d beaten Scott’s record on their game, or something along those lines, yet the news that came next knocked the wind out of Derek. 

“I’m moving.” 

“What?”

“My dad got transferred to another location up north… Y’know, big promotion and all, it’s a pretty big deal for him… We’re leaving in a month.” 

 

A week had passed since Stiles had moved. He’d only had one detention and it had ended with a slap to his wrists and not the whole scene that had happened before. But Derek was shaky. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He had friends of course, but none of them were as close to him as Stiles was. Scott and Isaac and Boyd and Erica. Even the ever judging Lydia and the almost always scary Allison weren’t enough to fill Stiles’ spot in his life. 

School was longer now. When he went to get ice cream he was alone and the pleasure of enjoying his cone was gone. There was too much that wasn’t the same without the other. They texted nearly every day and sometimes they called or had Skype chats, but without Stiles’ physical presence there was still a hole. 

At least his teacher had left him alone. She had ceased picking on him for every, unimportant detail. He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d made eye contact with him. Part of Derek hoped that someone had caught her doing her dirty deeds to him during that one detention and threatened to get her fired if she didn’t stop, though the chances of that actually being the case were slim to none. Whatever the reason, he was just happy that she wasn’t adding on to the burden that was becoming his daily life. 

When a month passed without Stiles, Derek had decided to join some club activities to keep distracted. With his friend around he’d had things to do: they’d gone to the movies, hung out at each others houses to play video games and Derek had come along as his supporter to every sporting event Stiles had. Without him, all that time that had been filled with him was empty and he desperately needed a replacement if he wanted to pass his senior year happy. 

No one would ever be able to fill the spot of best friend after having such a great pal, but Derek had easily substituted it by joining one team: lacrosse. It was really Scott and Isaac’s fault for pushing him into it. 

The only issue about being on the team was that he had to find a balance between school work and practice. Especially when it came to his calculus homework. There was no way he was going to get another detention with that lady. In consequence, he got detention with some other teachers: English, Science. But at least those teachers only made him sit with the other people that had forgotten to finish their homework and didn’t slap him with rulers or rub their lace clad crotches over his body… Thinking about it made Derek nauseous again. 

The memory plagued his dreams and waking thoughts constantly. He managed to keep them at bay during his interactions with others and during club activity time, but they always revisited when he was alone. 

Passing the woman in the hallways was even an issue for him. He felt like he was being manipulated by her; the little puppet and his puppeteer. It was eerie how she still wielded fear as her weapon against him even when she hadn’t made an advancement on him since the incident. 

Nevertheless, it was forgotten now. Derek refused to ponder on it for more than a moment at a time. 

If only it was as easy as he wished. 

The day came when lacrosse ended later than usual due to the huge upcoming game against their biggest rivals. No one complained, though, since it took them away from their classes for a day and they all got free food for lunch. The amount of work put into it, though, was incredible, and by the time practice had been called to a close the sun had set and the world outside was dark. 

He had started texting Stiles as incentive to keep his paranoia at bay. His home was only fifteen minutes away by foot; he could reach it without anything bad happening. Or so he had hoped. 

Halfway through writing a message for Stiles, Derek got the strange feeling that he was being watched. It was a creeping feeling that someone was inspecting him from not far off. Whenever he looked over his shoulder, however, he was only met with empty air. There was no one around him; it was him and the street. 

Suddenly he felt chilly, and not because the temperature was slowly sliding down to abnormal degrees. Using both hands he tugged his sweater tightly around him, placing his hands in his armpits where they soaked up the heat. His pace picked up, keen on getting home to the safety of his room where he’d work on his homework while having a Skype chat with Stiles. It had been planned; he was to be there at eight thirty and they would chat till ten or until Derek fell asleep. 

There was nothing that would interrupt his sessions with Stiles. He had missed that smile all day… 

As he crept along the street he wasn’t able to shake the feeling. On either side of him he had trees and houses with big gates that only got richer and grander the more he traveled. Soon they would dwindle down and become more modest, but passing one street where the iron gates were, where Stiles had used to live, he couldn’t help but stall. He passed this every day on his way to and from school. His best friend would wait here in the morning for them to walk together and on their way back he would ruffle his hair and wave to him as they split ways. Nostalgia pulled at Derek’s heart strings when he stopped before the fancy gates, missing his friend tremendously. Standing there for that short period of time made him forget about the nagging feeling that he was being stalked like prey.

His fingers reached out to pass over the engravings of the sign, knowing he wouldn’t be able to pass through it unless someone on the house he buzzed let him in. Which would never happen again…

Deep in his memories Derek didn’t notice the stall of headlights that illuminated him where he stood. The engine let out a low, relaxed hum that added background music to the walk down memory lane. Only when the car door opened and shut did he snap his head in the direction of the noise. A sleek, black vehicle had pulled up to the curb, the gleam from the street lights around them reflecting the excellent paint job. Derek wasn’t a full on car expert but he was able to tell when a car was fancy and this seemed to fit the bill quite religiously. 

The tinted windows made it impossible to see whoever lurked within but he didn’t have to squint to see who had pulled up. 

Medusa was back, leaning against the hood of her car. Her arms were crossed over her chest, in front of her blouse that had a few extra buttons popped open, not like he’d seen her wearing it today. His eyes he had to divert away from the glimpse of a bra that he saw lurking beneath, feeling dirty for having even seen that. This was his teacher after all. She was an adult, nowhere near his age, with a status in a prestigious school. Did she always comport herself like this outside of school? Derek could only wonder. The few times he’d seen teachers outside of school they’d been casual, but proper still. This was anything but proper. And he swore that her skirt had lost a couple inches as well. Not to mention her hair had fallen out of that bun to cascade down her shoulders. Silky curls looping continuously to her shoulder blades, reaching just before her mid back. 

“Hello Derek,” she greeted in a voice feigning kindness. 

“Good evening ma’am,” he replied. He tried to keep down the shiver that threatened to shake his body, clenching his fists and focusing on the pain that came with digging his nails into his palm rather than the hungry look in Medusa’s eyes. 

“What are you doing out so late?”

“I had lacrosse practice.”

“Would you like a ride home?” 

“No… I’m fine, I just live a couple blocks away.”

“Come on now Derek… It’ll be faster this way.”

“I’m really fine, thank you ma’am.”

“Get in the car, Derek.” 

He would have contradicted her but he froze up like water in the arctic. Derek bit his lip, adding to the symphony of pain he was using to keep his mind rooted.   
It wouldn’t be safe to get into a car with her, which was what his conscience was telling him. Who in their right minds would ever get into a car with a woman that had violated them? No one, that’s who. 

Mustering up the courage to refuse Derek narrowed his eyes. He straightened his body out, squared off his shoulders, took in a deep breath of air and said,   
“No.” 

A flicker of surprise glazed the teacher’s face. Derek thought he would be free for once and that she would give up the fight and finally leave him alone… But   
seconds after she had let her composure go, she had it reconstructed. Her features surrendered to a look of fury. Derek could hear the tapping of her heals on the gravel and his fisted hands were yanked away from his sides, his wrists now her property. 

“Let go,” he demanded, though his voice came out weaker than he’d anticipated. 

“Don’t talk back to me, Derek,” she growled, fighting with him as he struggled. 

Despite looking slim she was able to tug him a good few feet. Derek struggled, shouted out, tried to get someone to hear him. When he saw a light on one of the large houses closest to him turned on he had a bit of hope, but it was quickly annihilated when he found himself pushed head first into the car, the woman   
hissing something ugly at him and covering his mouth with a cloth.

Someone shouted in the distance, but his teacher had already returned to the driver’s side of the car. Without her seat belt on she put the pedal to the metal and raced off, giving no thought to anyone that had seen her. And Derek cowered in his seat, his mind foggy and limbs disobeying him slowly. He clutched onto anything he could, and knowing, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that he wouldn’t be going home tonight. 

 

I’ll be on at 8. Come soon so I can Skype with your scruffy, sour wolf face! – S

 

He had lost track of the days. Numbers and words were even hard to hold on to. Derek had had it engraved in his mind that it didn’t matter what he wanted. He was only to answer with “Yes ma’am” or “No ma’am” when he was addressed and if he tried to speak out with anything other than that he would be punished. It was routine. 

Today he had gotten ten floggings because he hadn’t gotten himself into the proper position for when his teacher came home. He simply had been too tired to do more than lay on his side. But she didn’t like that. She didn’t enjoy having to order him to do something she had trained him to do at the beginning. 

She had given him a little while to recover, but when she came back in she was brandishing her latest play thing, dressed in her skimpy lingerie that seemed to only turn her on. Derek supposed she felt good dressed like that. It wasn’t like it didn’t flatter her. She had curves that she knew how to flaunt. The lace outfit that adorned her body was see through enough that the boy could see through it. The hardened nipples on her breasts poked out at him through the veil of red material, the thong an extra item of clothing that usually was never there. 

“Are you going to be nice for me today, Derek?” she asked, tilting her head to the side mockingly. Her sugared up voice had once insulted Derek, but by then he had learned to pretend that it was caring; that way he could hold on to his sanity. 

“Y-yes ma’am…” 

“Good… Because I want to have some fun…” she purred. 

Derek swore he heard the snakes on her head hissing as she sashayed over, her hips going from side to side. From his spot on the floor he widened his legs, knowing what today would bring. She was especially greedy that afternoon… He wouldn’t be able to do anything but comply with her wishes. 

She knelt between his legs, her toys falling onto either side of his thighs while he hand stroked his raw member diligently. A sharp intake of air was sucked into her body when Derek’s shaft betrayed his mind by growing stiff. “Oh Derek… You don’t know how hard it was for me to wait for your cock all day,” she groaned, taking one of his bound hands and guiding it to her crotch. It was an uncomfortable position for him considering the chains he’d been fastened to upon his arrival didn’t give much leeway. He had to twist in the cuffs to get his hand the way she wanted it to. Touching her wet privates made him uneasy. Derek went along with it, though, massaging the area, pushing on the places he knew she liked and sliding a finger past to caress the moist area that had her mewling and pressed up against him. 

His neck twisted as much as possible so he could avoid having her face too close to his. If he had had the tears left in him he would be crying in shame at the things he was being forced to do. But of course, she had made it so that the only time his tears came up was when she hit him hard enough to force the water hibernating in his body up to his eyes. Another part of him that she controlled… 

“Derek, I love when you use your fingers,” she giggled, pushing her hips down. 

Her blissful oblivion lasted for a short period only. When she realized that he was disobeying one of her many rules by staring at the wall instead of her she shoved his hands away. 

“What are you doing? You said you wouldn’t be naughty today!” she yelled.

“I-I wasn’t being naughty! I-I swear, please!” 

Her hand came down hard on his face, a clear slap sound filling his empty room. Tears sprung to his eyes immediately. Medusa had that power. His teeth chomped down on the inside of his cheek, however. If he cried now she would only come down on him harder and he wanted to avoid adding another welt to his collection. 

“Naughty boys get punished Derek,” she hissed. What had once been lust in her eyes turned into a murky version of lustful vengeance. A familiar ring was readjusted around his member, a warning that this would be just as intense as the last time. He would feel this one when he woke up… Derek braced himself for what was to come… 

“Look at me you naughty boy,” she hissed, pulling on his shaft so hard that he yelped out. What a wrong, wrong move… 

What came after that was a blur. Derek remembered whimpering for her to stop, succumbing to his body’s demands, sobbing as she choked him during her orgasm… Crippling up into the foetal position when she deemed that he hadn’t worked hard enough. Enduring the countless, endless spankings on his bottom, the cuts from her nails as she scraped them down his chest and arms… And another round of torture as she noticed her sexual appetite had not been satiated. 

“Mommy wants your cock so bad Derek baby…” she cooed, rubbing herself onto his exhausted frame. 

“Y-yes ma’am…” he panted, hoping he would be able to keep consciousness long enough to meet her demands. As he was laid down by his teacher his mind traveled to anywhere but where he was at present. He could feel her body tightening around his privates, could feel her touching him, her little cries as she rode out her sick fantasies on his captured body. Though he was chained to the walls and had no more energy to even breathe he kept his mind wandering. If he could just think of something else while she mutilated him… 

Stiles… Derek wondered what he was doing. Through tears and shivers he held onto the hope that maybe he was happy. If he was happy, Derek could be too… 

“Look at me Derek; don’t make me punish you again!”

His chin was pulled viciously. Pain was already throbbing in his cheeks and in his jaw. She grinned maniacally at the fear and pathetic spirit in her victim. Those tears pushed her to ride him further, pulling violently on his nipples, choking him, biting on his lips and tongue till he bled. She slurped up the beads of red that she drew from his body. There was no need for lipstick now. Derek’s face was smeared with the red of his own blood and his teacher had acquired almost a permanent stain of red thanks to him. 

He watched her breasts bounce as she hopped. Back arched, head thrown back and snapping forwards only when she wanted to get an extra boost of ecstasy from seeing a new red mark on his body. 

Stiles was maybe having lunch right now… Smiling with his parents or with some new friends. Maybe he was still waiting for Derek to come on Skype to chat with him… 

The sounds euphoria filled the room. Derek felt his nose scrunch distastefully when he felt his stomach clench and his seed spill inside of the woman. She herself was clenched blissfully around his member, riding out her orgasm slowly, dipping her fingers down to scoop up the liquids they’d both secreted. He was repulsed by how she relished in the taste of it, pulling her body off of him and replacing it with her mouth, licking him clean. “You taste so good for a naughty boy,” she snickered. 

Though this had to be the third round at least Derek knew that it wasn’t over yet. It wouldn’t be till she strangled the waking being out of him. 

“Surprising since you wet your mat again today like such a bad boy… You’re filthy aren’t you, Derek?”

“Yes… M-ma’am…”

Her newest toy, a leather whip purchased from who knew where snapped onto his chest, the thick material pinching his skin horrendously. Derek cried out his pain, trying to curl in to himself but his bonds made it near impossible. Another snap, followed by another. They never quite hit the same spot but sometimes the lashes crossed over and he felt bubbles of skin form, popping and releasing rivulets of blood that meshed with his sweat. 

“What a bad boy you are… But you make me feel so good…” 

Derek was punished by more things, some he couldn’t quite form due to the blurriness of his vision. The last thing used on him was a candle that he knew. She took immense pleasure in watching the little blisters form on his arms and legs. The fire was one of the most agonizing things he’d ever experienced in his whole life. While the flame lapped at his skin and kissed the little hairs, licked at the flesh, he felt his mind bend, trying to reach out for those images and memories of his friend. What of his parents? Maybe they had joined together and had a picnic together? Maybe they were wondering why he once again was late for supper… 

“Such a naughty boy.”

With the next lashing Derek wet himself. 

Stiles.

‘It’s okay Derek; I’ll always be here to save your ass.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yeah, promise. It’s the least I can do since you’re always saving mine.’

‘It was one time Stiles.’

‘Yeah, but those guys never hit me again.’

 

32 unanswered text messages. 18 missed calls. 

Derek? It’s been like 5 days now. Answer your phone. – S  
BRO?! srsly where are you? – S  
Derekkkkkk? – S  
If you don’t answer you phone today I’m gonna come down there. I will force my dad to bring me. – S  
I drove four hours to see you. Why aren’t you home? – S  
The guys say they haven’t seen you. Derek, where did you go? – S   
Derek, this isn’t funny haha anymore. This is a sick joke. Now answer your goddamn phone! – S


	4. Emotionally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for panic attacks and anxiety.

Every morning Derek woke up to a white room. The walls were white, the bed was white, the desk was close enough to white with the light wood varnish it had. The only thing that was dark was the bed frame. Otherwise, his socks were white, his pants, his shirt, his skin edging towards that shade. 

It was okay, though, it didn’t affect Derek much. To be honest, he hardly recognized the colours unless Stiles came around with a new picture to put on his wall and then he’d pout and complain about needing to paint. That would always make Stiles laugh which he loved. It was nice hearing the bell like sounds come out of his friend. 

“Good morning Derek, how are you today?” a man asked, having knocked on his door before entering with a tray of food. 

That was how it always went. A man came to bring him breakfast and would tell him what he was doing today. Never a woman. If a woman came then Derek would go back today and some ugly things would happen with Derek when he came out to play. Derek never liked those days. He always ended up with needles stabbing into his hips or arms and he woke up with a head ache or a tummy ache. 

“Do I get pudding today?” Derek asked, bright eyes fixed on the covered tray top, hoping that the deliciousness of his favourite treat was contained on the assortment of food he had. 

“No, not for breakfast Derek. We do have some nice apple sauce today, though,” the man said. He placed the tray on the little table beside the desk that folded when they wanted to put it away and pulled up a seat next to Derek on the bed. 

The boy pouted, a sight to see on someone his age, but it didn’t feel unnatural to him. “But I didn’t wet the bed last night…” he whined. 

“You’ll get some at lunch, don’t worry… Stiles is going to come see you today; he said he would bring you some.” While he spoke he pulled the cover off Derek’s tray, revealing the assortment of food that he had to pick from for his breakfast that morning. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to satiate his body and his taste buds. Derek was quite picky with his food after all, much like a small child. 

Oatmeal with brown sugar stirred into it, not piping hot otherwise he would refuse to eat it. A glass of apple juice – not orange juice because that made things taste funny and not milk because milk made his throat feel weird – and half a toast with jam and margarine. A picky child through and through. But they catered to his needs and wants generously since it was part of the healing process which was why he was here having his meals brought to him in the first place. 

“Stiles is coming today?” Derek asked, excited at the prospects of seeing his old friend again. 

He was interrupted by a spoon ladled with oatmeal coming to his mouth, pushing gently at his lips. Derek would have to wait for his answer. It was warm in his mouth as he wrapped his lips around it, swallowing it quickly with little thought. 

“When is he coming?” he asked the moment he’d finished swallowing. 

“He’s going to come after he finishes school; he’s going to bring you pudding for your evening meal. Open up.” The spoon prodded at his lower lip again, urging Derek to take in the food once more. He gobbled it diligently but his mouth was so open again, asking more questions. 

“Is he really coming today?” 

His excitement was contagious, one of the many things that followed the boy around. The staff smiled when he bounced after the male accompanying him that day. He was quarantined in a certain area with a few other people. Everyone had learned early on that any contact with a woman sent him spiralling downwards. It was something they tried to avoid at all costs. 

“Is it time for Stiles to come yet?” he would ask nearly every ten seconds. 

The light that followed Derek around traveled all over the place. As they filed as a pair, Derek and the male worker, into the recreation room he had a bounce to his step that replicated his attitude. There were only two people here, no women, like it was requested to have at this time. They were going to make a puzzle to keep Derek calmed down enough until Stiles came. There would be a snack and some juice once they reached the half hour mark and by then Derek would most likely be bored of his puzzle and they’d have to move on to something like the Life game – one of his personal favourites. 

“Do you think Stiles will bring me a surprise today?” Derek asked while placing a piece down on the table. 

“I’m not sure, but I know he’s bringing pudding.” 

“Stiles always brings me pudding. He’s really nice like that. Even when I want some weird pudding like banana pudding, he brings it.” 

“He really is nice, isn’t he?”

“Yeah! He’s my best friend. Once we kissed, but don’t tell anyone that!” 

The giggles that rewarded the worker afterwards were something that warmed his belly. Though the boy had retreated into a shell of immaturity, he still had part of his old soul lingering in there… They just needed to coax it out and convince it that it was safe and no one here was going to hurt him. 

“You kissed him, huh?” the man asked, smiling gently as he replaced a piece in Derek’s hand with the proper one. He’d heard the story many times; it was something the other never stopped talking about. There was rarely a day where someone didn’t hear the story. Not that anyone complained. It was fun to hear, no one judged him for it, and it was healthy for him to have someone like that to lean on, or so the psychiatrist said to them. If anything talk about Stiles was encouraged, especially when Derek was having down days. 

It was kind of like routine. 

Derek strived on routine. 

The door to the room opened, the slim figure of one of the lady figures in the building sliding in without noticing who was in here. She held a clipboard up to her face, blinded to the scene in front of her. With some wisps of hair hanging out of her bun she didn’t seem to be too comported. The bags hanging beneath her eyes were indication that maybe she wasn’t all there due to stress or some other factor. Thankfully, Derek’s back was turned to the woman, so he didn’t see her right away, but if she came any closer than she already was then there’d be an issue. 

The man at Derek’s side tried to wave discreetly. He didn’t want to draw Derek’s attention to her, lest he noticed her, but the last thing he wanted was for her to get in his line of vision. He cut at his throat, shooed her away when Derek had his face buried in the board game. Still, she didn’t catch on. Now he was getting desperate. Why didn’t she at least look up from her papers to see if someone was in the room? Anyone who worked here knew that if they didn’t follow schedules that it could end in fatal mistakes. Like this one, for example.

“Leave,” the man called at last, at a loss for other ways to draw her away from the pair. 

Unfortunately, like he had expected, it transferred Derek’s attention from the board game to the woman. He could see him seize up instantly, his hand reaching out and catching his forearm in a death grip. Panic surged to his eyes giving them a glazed look as they widened to the size of saucers. A deer in headlights couldn’t compare to the spectacle he had made of himself. Tremors shuffled along his limbs and soon attacked his core, transforming him into nothing but a tiny bug hanging onto a leaf as it was tossed around in the storm. 

“Stiles, where’s Stiles?” he whispered, his voice no more than a squeak. 

“Can you please exit the room? The schedule specifically stated that no women were to enter this room!” he barked. His frustration was peaking; the lady was simply standing in the center of the room, looking as stricken as Derek. 

She tried to utter some syllables, simultaneously someone crept up behind her, having heard the commotion. He muttered some words to her gently, trying to coax her along and out of the room. By then it was far too late. Derek’s breathing had picked up speed; his hand had found its way into his hair and he was pulling at it. His head shook back and forth as he himself muttered undecipherable words to himself. 

“Derek… Hey Derek, she’s not going to hurt you; she’s leaving, okay? Look at me Derek. You’re okay.” 

Despite his efforts it was far too late. Derek was spiralling downwards. Even with the woman officially ushered out he continued to shake his head, blanched of colour. The man tried to coo to him and get him settled down, though it was all futile. 

“Get his medication, quickly,” he said, lifting his head to make eye contact with the other worker in the room. “Now!” he shouted. 

In the brief second he’d taken his attention off Derek he had gotten out of his chair, pacing the room frantically. Words were spilling off his lips, nonsense slowly turning into hysteria. 

“I’ve been a good boy! I have been!” he screamed, urging the care taker to run towards Derek so he could begin the calming process. But he was pushed away, Derek getting more rambunctious the more he paced. “I-I didn’t pee! I-I waited for her! I waited for her till she came home! I’ve been a good boy! I shouldn’t – she shouldn’t – I didn’t!” 

His fingers tangled into his long hair, pulling violently. The worker caught sight of a couple wisps (more like half of the locks) coming out when his hands pulled away from his head. If he kept clawing at himself like he was doing then he would end up bald and scarred. Desperate to get the boy under control again, the worker pulled at Derek’s wrists delicately, hoping that some sense of hope would fall into his head so that he could get a grip of what was truly going on around him. 

“Derek, you’re okay, she’s gone, look – you’ve been a really good boy, you have been!” he murmured, trying and failing to make eye contact again. 

“I’m not – my name is Derek! And I’ve been a good boy. My name is Derek! And I’ve been a good boy!” The more he repeated himself the louder he got, his voice going raw from the pitch he reached. Any second now and the situation would be out of his control and they’d have to use an injection. 

He was trembling all over, hyperventilating with his thumbs caving into his palms, fingers erect like he had lost mobility of them. His knees knocked into each other, Derek slowly slumping down behind the back of the couch, his forearms turning in at the elbows to cocoon into his chest. Short, heaving breathes wheezed through the boy but there was still no sign of the medication. 

“My name is Derek and I’ve been a good boy for you. I have been. A good boy, a very good boy; Derek has been a good boy!” 

The door slammed open again, the main doctor assigned to Derek’s case sailing in with his jacket’s coat tails streaming out before him. Tears were already streaming down the boy’s face but it didn’t deter the doctor. He knelt at his side, the pill and water bottle already in his hand. Words were commanded in the worker’s direction, asking him to help him lever Derek’s head the proper way so they could at least get the pill into his mouth. 

“Come on Derek, look… It’s your pill, remember this? We have to give you your medicine… You don’t mind taking it, remember?” the doctor mumbled to his patient, placing the tiny capsule onto Derek’s tongue and lifting the water bottle’s mouth to his lips. 

It took a lot of comforting and coaxing, but the water was tipped into Derek’s mouth, washing the pill down into his body where his system would absorb it so that he could slowly begin to calm down to a state that others were able to work him. The deliria weren’t something that anyone had been able to penetrate yet, though they definitely knew the trigger. Derek’s own mother was unable to visit him since it only attributed to his fissured condition that was always on the edge of breaking down. 

“You’re okay… Stiles is coming over today, right?” the doctor murmured to Derek, helping the boy up to his feet. 

Derek nodded, looking small like a tiny infant. “Stiles… He’s going to bring me pudding… He’s coming today… Is he here yet?” he asked. He moved his head side to side, wide, tear glazed eyes searching the area for him. 

The worker took over the doctor’s position, though, nodding to the man that he could take it from here. “He’s not here yet, but he’ll be here soon. Why don’t we finish that puzzle while we wait?” he questioned, guiding the teenage boy slowly back to the table where puzzle pieces lay scattered about the surface. What they had accomplished so far with their puzzle had been ruined during Derek’s episode, but that only meant that he’d have more to focus on while he waited for Stiles’ arrival. It wouldn’t be long now… Soon the one person that could put the boy at complete ease would come and everyone would be able to breathe a sigh of relief to see their patient so relaxed. 

 

“Hey Derek, guess who’s here?” the worker asked, poking his head into the doorway. 

The expression on the young boy’s face quickly transformed from one of boredom to one of complete excitement. There was no telling him twice. He was on his feet and racing to the door to swing it wide open for his guest. 

“Stiles is here? Where is he?” he asked, craning his neck in all sorts of position to catch sight of his close friend. A sudden look of disappointment overrode his features when he wasn’t able to see the slender boy, but then the lithe figure came from around the corner, a small bag in his hand and a thoughtful look on his face. 

Derek took a moment to appreciate what he was seeing. No matter how many times Stiles visited he felt the same. Though maybe what he felt when he saw him each new time was a bit more intensified, but his feelings progressed and never regressed, so they might as well have been staying the same. The tall figure striding towards him was nothing less than perfection, the one ray of sunshine in this maelstrom that he was in every since he’d been dragged from hell and back. It didn’t matter what kind of day Derek had, whether it be a bad one, or a good one, when he heard or saw Stiles or even thought about him, it anchored him to the small bit left of his reality. Everything about his dark hair, dark eyes, plump, pink lips had been shivering in excitement since he knew he wasn’t allowed to leave his room lest someone gave him the okay. 

“Stiles! Stiles!” he shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet with one hand waving out excitedly to his friend.

The troubled look on Stiles’ face slowly transformed into one of pure elation when he caught sight of his friend calling to him. Just like Derek, he was unable to describe why his feelings soared to such a particular level when he saw them. He always floated on cloud nine when he caught sight of that bright, crooked smile. It was contagious, like so many people had learned. Even with this whole mess that had happened with Derek he had stuck by his side, unlike many people who gradually had left his life because they were unable to handle the issues that came along with the abuse he had suffered. 

It was never easy, Stiles had to admit, to keep up with the demands that Derek sometimes had – both ones that he issued and he hadn’t issued. But… There was a pull, and Stiles was determined to never abandon Derek, not when what he needed was someone to stick by his side. Things got rough, but he was able to push past the dark times, the light at the end of his tunnel having always been Derek. 

“Stiles! They said you were bringing me pudding!” he cheered, letting the taller boy into his room. 

He hopped back to his bed, another routine of his, and sat on the edge of it, watching Stiles walk in. The worker had to keep the door open as another person was walking in with his evening meal. Derek all but ignored it, bright, brown eyes focused on Stiles who was shrugging off his jacket. 

“I have pudding; I brought two kinds. But you don’t get to have them until you eat your meal,” he said lightly. The crestfallen look on Derek’s face was one he was used to. Anything that took away from his pudding experience made him bring out the hurt puppy act. At the beginning it had worked but Stiles had caught on to his game and he knew how to play it. The next move was simple, too, a simple ruffle of Derek’s hair and sitting at his side. 

“I want pudding now,” Derek pouted, both hands shaking Stiles’ thigh as he did his most pitiful charade. 

The latter couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, taking Derek’s hands in his own and giving them a jiggle of his own. “You’ll get it, Derek! But only if you eat your whole supper,” he said. 

Derek wouldn’t pass up the challenge of completing his meal if it meant he would get his favourite treat as a reward. He sat back obediently, glancing at Stiles from the corner of his eye as he waited. “Okay… I’ll eat it, but only because you asked so nicely,” he agreed. 

Stiles laughed and uncovered the tray, revealing Derek’s supper of Sheppard’s pie and apple juice – his favourite. It smelled as delicious as a supper could be in a place like this. It wasn’t unappetizing but Stiles had definitely seen more. He didn’t think Derek noticed much though. 

“Pudding would be better,” Derek tried again. His efforts were futile as Stiles was already picking up the plastic spork and cutting off a sizeable bite to guide to Derek’s mouth. 

His smile never faltered, even as he nudged Derek’s mouth slightly to get him to open up. “You’ll get pudding after, how many times do I have to tell you, you sneaky kid?” The boy swallowed the spork up, chewing on his food diligently and waiting for Stiles to serve him the next mouthful. After his third one he opened his mouth, explaining what he’d done that day to him, something of a tradition between them. He told him about the puzzle he’d made and the painting he’d done that was hanging in the recreation room – a nice portrait of him and Stiles. What he left out was the altercation with the woman that had been practically pushed out of his mind much in the manner of his self defence mechanism since the incident. 

“Do I get pudding now?” Derek asked, seeing only one bite left in his plate. 

“Only once you finish this. Come on…” Stiles cooed, scooping up the few morsels left, checking that it wouldn’t fall off and leading it towards Derek’s mouth. For a few stubborn moments Derek pouted at the food, but when Stiles made a comment about not being able to get his pudding if he didn’t finish his meal he opened   
his mouth again, chewing and swallowing the final bits of the food. 

“Pudding now?” he asked, bright eyes fixated on Stiles. 

“Yeah… You get pudding now…” he agreed, giving him a fond look as he fished into his bag to get the stuff he’d brought along with him. “Chocolate and vanilla, which do you want first?” 

“Chocolate!” 

“All right, chocolate it is.” He peeled back the top of the cup and took out the spoon he’d brought along with him, one that he used often now since Derek liked the colour of the spoon that he’d in all honesty gotten out of a cereal box a long time ago. 

“Wait, I want something else first,” Derek said, his pout tripling in intensity when he turned to Stiles who in turn raised an eyebrow because what could the other want that was so important it got to go before the pudding? 

“What is it?” he asked gently, setting the pudding down in his lap with his fingers still wrapped around it. 

“You promised me another kiss.” 

“You want it now?”

“Yeah, but you have to promise to give me another one next time I see you.”

“Don’t I always?” 

Derek replied by pointing straight towards his puckered lips, leaving Stiles unable to deny his amusement as he chuckled. Another tradition, one that he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy. Like he had said to many people before, there was something about Derek that made him unable to leave. Many people questioned him on how he viewed Derek, but in all honesty he didn’t know… He’d been talked to by Derek’s parents who had talked to many doctors… His best friend had receded into a childlike state in order to heal the deep wounds he had. He was a teenager caught in the body of a small child… Yet sometimes there was part of him that acted older than he portrayed himself. Every side of Derek appealed to him, though. Even when sometimes he decayed into that state of psychosis he felt protective over Derek… Whichever reason he chose to go by, this thing with the kisses had started back when Derek had grinned weakly at him from the hospital bed, eyes glossed with tears. 

“Make it better…” he’d whispered, voice choked with emotions that Stiles had never even touched upon in his short life of barely eighteen years. “Make it all better… P-please…”

“How… H-how can I make it better?” Stiles had replied, completely flabbergasted as to how he could have taken months of torture and abuse – of every degree –   
in this one moment. It simply wasn’t something that he could fix on his own, let alone in one split second. And then Derek had whispered something that he hadn’t thought about since that time they’d found themselves strayed at a bus booth, waiting for their ride to come in the middle of a deathly cold winter. Their cold lips had pressed together and the brief bit of warmness he’d received through that one touch had spread throughout his body, growing stronger by the day till now it seemed…

“Kiss me… Just kiss me… Stiles… Please…” Derek had begged, all out sobbing. Tremors had ripped apart his body and Stiles couldn’t bear to watch him suffer any longer… 

So he’d leaned over, and like he’d done once before, he pressed his lips to Derek’s, surprised to find them as cold as they had been the first time he’d done it. 

This time, and all the other times since that moment in the hospital, had never been the same as that one they’d shared. Derek’s childish nature never allowed it. But Stiles still did it, despite not ever being able to place a title on what he and Derek had or were. How could anyone put a label on what they shared? It was far too complicated for even him to understand… 

Yet he never rejected the other, wrapping a slim fingered hand around the back of Derek’s neck, the fine hairs at the base of his skull tickling his finger tips. And he pushed his mouth delicately onto the boy’s, meshing them together intimately for no more than three seconds.   
“Now I get pudding right?” Derek asked brightly, almost like none of this had ever happened. 

“Yeah… Now you get pudding, Derek…” Stiles said quietly, scooping up the gooey dessert and leading it to his mouth where his had been earlier. “Open wide Derek…” 

Derek’s jaw slackened and he found himself waiting for the spoon to land on his tongue, only closing his mouth when he was sure Stiles had got it right and swishing the creamy goodness in his mouth. A purr practically sounded from the boy as he swallowed his pudding, hand finding Stiles’ unoccupied one as he gripped it tightly, awaiting his next bite. 

A napkin was pressed to the corner of his mouth where he’d accidentally let some pudding fall. Another spoonful was pressed against his lips, though, and he gladly opened wide, his grip never faltering on Stiles. 

“Good job, Derek… Is it good?”

“I like pudding.” 

“Yeah, I asked for chocolate, your favourite.”

“I like you.” 

“I know… I like you too…”

“A lot?”

“Yeah… A lot.” 

With a beaming smile and a gap in his memories about what had happened with Derek, the bridge and everything else, he opened his mouth again, begging Stiles to feed him some more. And the other was only too happy to comply. Derek once more moved the gelatine like dessert in his mouth and swallowed, humming happily as he opened his gob again. “More please,” Derek murmured, pulling on Stiles’ hand as the feeling slowly returned to his body again.


End file.
